


safe

by estrella30



Category: One Direction
Genre: M/M, Roofied, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for the prompt:</p>
<p>
  <i>Harry gets his drink spiked and Zayn takes care of him. </i>
</p>
<p>on the zarry ficathon</p>
            </blockquote>





	safe

It takes a minute for Zayn to realize something isn’t quite right, and then when he does he worries that he’s a split second too late.

He’s out smoking on Simon’s terrace, trying to get a little peace and quiet from the roar of the party inside. Zayn actually has no idea what the party is for. All he knows is that Liam read the invitation when it came and told them they needed to be dressed in their tuxes and at Simons that Friday at eight, and they all nodded their heads and said fine, sure. Whatever Simon wants. 

It’s a good party, as far as industry events go. They lost Niall to the buffet the moment they got there, and Harry and Louis to the bar not long after that. Zayn stuck with Liam for a while until Liam got pulled into a conversation about equal rights for the spotted penguin of Antarctica or something equally boring, and Zayn murmured that he was going to go outside for a smoke. 

“Stay close, yeah?” Liam asks.

Zayn nods his head. He gives Liam’s shoulder a squeeze and waves to the rest of the group as he heads out, hand already patting the inside of his jacket for his pack of fags. 

The winter air is sharp and cold. It makes Zayn lose his breath, stings the corners of his eyes and Zayn shivers as he taps his lighter out of the pack, lighting a fag and breathing in deeply. 

No matter how many times they do this – go to big, fancy parties and press junkets and fundraisers - Zayn still feels like he doesn’t really belong. Like at any moment someone is going to jump out from around the corner with a video camera and a microphone and shout, “A-ha! Gotcha!” and reveal that everything, the whole past two plus years of his life, have been some insanely vivid hallucination. That he’s still some shy kid in Bradford, singing into his bedroom mirror at the end of the day wondering if he’s ever going to really make it. 

He takes another long drag and catches sight of Harry inside the room, leaning heavily against the edge of the bar talking to someone Zayn doesn’t know. It’s nothing that should send up any kind of alarms; Zayn’s been out with Harry enough times to know how Harry works at these things. Harry is talkative and cheeky and flirty at the worst of times, so when he’s dressed up with a few drinks in him and in party mode he’s usually a force to be reckoned with. 

This, though. This seems different. 

Zayn is almost too far away to tell, but it looks like Harry’s eyes are barely open. He’s half-slouching against the bar and half leaning into someone Zayn doesn’t know, someone he’s never seen before, and Louis is nowhere to be found. 

It’s not anything that should be sending up any kind of warning signals because what Harry does is Harry’s business, but there’s something there. Something about the situation that’s off enough that it zings awareness up Zayn’s spine and has him stubbing out his cigarette and pulling the door open, the warmth of the room wrapping around him and settling deep in his bones. 

He gets within two steps of Harry before Harry looks up (and that right there means something is off. They always know when one of the others is near. The fact that Zayn was able to practically sneak up on Harry is telling enough) and then he looks up and a wide, overly happy smile breaks open on his face. 

“Zayn!” he shouts. Harry goes to hug him and nearly pitches over. He would have if Zayn wasn’t there to catch him as he fell. “Where were you? I missed you!” Harry slurs, his face hot and sweaty where he buries it into the crook of Zayn’s neck. 

Zayn is so angry his hands start to shake because it’s obvious to him that Harry’s not quite right. He’s clearly on something, and if Zayn’s suspicions are correct, Harry didn’t take it on his own. He pets Harry’s back and pulls him closer, muffling a groan when Harry completely drapes himself all over him. “You feeling okay, babe?” he says into Harry’s ear and Harry laughs, wide and bright. 

“I am! I am feeling _great_! Did you meet my new friend?” Harry asks and gestures toward the man he’d been talking to who’s doing his best to slink away from the both of them. 

He’s older, with dark slick backed hair and dark eyes, and Zayn glares, holds Harry close and commits what this asshole looks like to memory. He’s not going to do anything now – Harry being safe is the most important thing and Zayn’s going to take care of him first – but he _will_ do something about it soon. 

“I didn’t,” Zayn says, lips curving into a sneer. “What did you say your name was again?”

The man drops his head, goes to leave without answering, but Harry shouts, “Eric, right? You did say it was Eric!”

“I—“ the man stutters, and Zayn slips his arm under Harry’s jacket and pulls him in closer, trying to ignore the way Harry is almost climbing on top of Zayn. The way his hands are grabbing and pulling every piece of Zayn he can reach.

“You need to get the fuck out of here before I kill you,” Zayn says to the guy (Eric, his brain supplies. He’ll need to remember that for later), quiet as night. Eric bolts, leaving Zayn with an armful of drugged Harry and way too much anger to deal with right now. 

“Aww,” Harry says, his voice thicker and slower than Zayn has ever heard. “He left, didn’t he? Why did you make him leave?”

“Because we need to get home, Haz,” Zayn says patiently. He looks around but can’t spot any of the others and decides he doesn’t have time to go looking for them. Getting Harry out of there and back to their hotel before anything happens to him is the most important thing right now. “Can you walk?”

Harry nods jerkily. “I can, yeah,” he says. He stumbles a little the first few steps he takes on his own, and when Zayn looks back at him his eyes are wide and frightened. “I feel really weird, Zayn,” he says, voice small. 

A burst of protectiveness fills Zayn’s chest and he can hardly breathe with how much he loves Harry right now. How much he wants to take care of him. “It’s all right,” he says gently, and pulls Harry back into his side. “I got you and we’ll go slow, yeah? It’s going to be fine.”

*

They get to the car without incident, and Zayn texts the others as they start back toward the hotel saying Harry wasn’t feeling well so Zayn decided to take him home. They all ask if Zayn wants help or company but Zayn tells them no, to stay and enjoy the party. He doesn’t know why but he feels responsible for Harry. Like he was the one who found him so now he gets to keep him, to take care of him. It doesn’t make sense but Zayn’s not going to argue with himself about it. He’s got Harry. He’s his for the night. 

The car pulls them around to the back entrance of the hotel and Zayn manages to get both him and Harry out of the car and into the lift without any incident.

“Hey! There’s my room!” Harry exclaims when they pass it and continue down the hall to where Zayn’s is located. “Are we not going to my room?” Harry asks, his eyebrows crinkling in confusion. 

“No. You’re going to stay with me,” Zayn says. Harry hums happily, still hanging onto Zayn’s jacket and Zayn manages to get the door open and both of them inside without any major catastrophe. Well. He’s most likely about to have a breakdown in the loo, but other than that things haven’t gone as badly as they could have. Zayn’s going to count it as a win.

He yanks his tie off and kicks off his shoes, already jonesing for another smoke but he needs to make sure Harry’s okay first. He looks over at the bed and Harry is already lying there, fussing with the buttons on his shirt and making short, choked off noises every time his body moves. 

“Harry. Are you all right?” Zayn hates the way his voice shakes, but he’s starting to freak out a bit. Maybe he shouldn’t have let the others stay at the party. Maybe he should have made them come back with him, help him with Harry, because what if something is really wrong with him? What if Zayn doesn’t know what to do? He should have at least brought Liam back. Liam is smart when things like this happen. He would keep his cool and know what to do with Harry, what to say, where Zayn…Zayn is starting to freak out a little bit. 

Harry is shoving back up onto the bed, writhing against the sheets and Zayn crawls on next to him, trying to figure out what to do to help him. His pets Harry’s hair but that makes Harry moan; a rough, broken sound that makes the breath ball up in Zayn’s chest. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Harry whines. His eyes are closed tight. Zayn tries to calm him down, soothe him, but when he touches Harry’s chest he can feel the rapid beat of Harry’s heart under the palm of his hand. “Oh, god, please—“

“Please what?” Zayn’s stomach flips. His insides are twisted in knots because he doesn’t know what to _do_. He wants to help Harry but every time he moves closer or touches him Harry shakes like he’s dying and it’s scaring the shit out of him. “Just tell me, Haz. I’ll do whatever you need.”

“I just need you—“ Harry chokes out, and then he’s curling up, almost into a ball as Zayn rubs his hand over Harry’s chest, down his sternum, letting his fingers splay over Harry’s hip. Harry blinks his eyes open and his pupils are so so huge, barely any green around them at all. His cheeks are flushed and there’s sweat beading at his temples. Zayn feels his own face go warm with the way Harry is looking at him. Harry licks his lips and the flash of his tongue has Zayn hard in his trousers, his body tight and itchy with want. 

“Can you kiss me?” Harry asks, and Zayn doesn’t even think, just lowers his head and swallows Harry’s moan on his tongue. 

It’s as if that was all they needed to let everything out. Like the gate to a dam breaking Zayn can’t stop touching, can’t stop kissing Harry’s mouth and face and throat. He wishes he had some kind of drug in his system to blame this on like Harry does, but the truth is Zayn wants this, has pretty much always wanted this, and even though Harry probably won’t remember it in the morning Zayn will do whatever he can to help Harry right now. 

He rips Harry’s shirt open, dragging his teeth and tongue over Harry’s heated skin. His bites at Harry’s nipples, let’s Harry pulls on his hair and tug Zayn’s head down where he wants it; over his chest and hip bones and under the waist of his pants. Zayn undoes the button and zip when Harry asks him to, and then he’s sinking down, swallowing Harry as deep as he can when Harry bucks and moans under him. 

It’s rough and messy and not anything like any first time Zayn has ever imagined. He’s thought about being with Harry a hundred different times in a hundred different ways, but never like this, with Harry crazy with some kind of drug lust. It should make Zayn sad when he thinks about it but all he feels is so thankful and lucky that he was the one to find Harry. Not some stranger, not one of the others. He found Harry and took care of him, and no matter how Zayn feels about Harry outside of this, that can never be a bad thing. 

“Zayn, _please_ , Zayn—“ Harry gasps, and Zayn swirls his tongue and sucks hard, swallowing deep when Harry pulses and comes down his throat. 

He pulls off a minute later and Harry looks calm, finally. Sweaty and blissed out and just fucked on Zayn’s sheets. He’s snoring softly, a tiny smile on his lips, and Zayn takes a moment to card his fingers through Harry’s damp hair, presses a kiss to the corner of Harry’s eye and cheek and mouth. 

Zayn kicks off the rest of his own clothes and cleans Harry up as best as he can and then pulls the covers over them both, making sure to tangle their legs and arms together when they sleep so if Harry wakes up he’ll know Zayn is there. He’ll know that he’s safe. 

*

Zayn wakes in the morning to the sun blaring through the windows and Harry propped up against his hand watching Zayn sleep.

“Morning,” Harry says quietly when Zayn’s eyes flicker open. 

“Hey.” Zayn yawns and stretches. He looks back at Harry, taking in his smile and face and eyes. Harry looks like his regular self again. Back to normal. The way he grins at Zayn as he’s looking proves it. “Feeling better?” Zayn asks. 

“Yeah.” Harry nods. His lips are quirking into a small smile as he looks down and away. “I,” he says, then pauses. “Thank you.”

Zayn doesn’t pretend to not know what he means. He just nods and fiddles with the edge of the sheet in between his fingers. “You’re welcome.” And then, because that’s not what he really means to say, “I’m sorry though, if…” he trails off, feeling his cheeks flush hot and warm. 

“What?”

“Nothing, just.” Zayn shrugs. “I was just helping you. I mean. It didn’t have to mean anything.”

Harry is quiet for so long that if he wasn’t lying right there Zayn would have been convinced that he’d left. “Doesn’t it?” he finally says, and Zayn hazards a look up. The look on Harry’s face has Zayn’s breath catch hard in his chest. His heart is pounding so fast he’s surprised Harry’s can’t actually hear it. “It means everything, Zayn. And I’ve wanted it, wanted you for so long, but if you don’t—“

“No, no! I do, I do.” Zayn reaches up and tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair. Pulls him down for a fast, messy kiss. “I do,” he says, quietly, seriously, and Harry smiles at him just as serious and says, “Me too.”

They grin at each other stupidly for a minute, and then Harry slides down, burrowing deep into the covers, his hands touching Zayn’s shoulders and hips and chest almost hesitantly. He kisses the words tattooed across Zayn’s collarbone and Zayn’s fingers tighten in Harry’s hair. “Haz,” he grits out. “What are you doing?”

“Well, from what I recall I owe you one, right?” Harry says, cheeky as ever as he disappears under the sheets, and really, who is Zayn to disagree.

 

-end-


End file.
